The Matte Magister
by Cuz I'm Nice Like That
Summary: New to the throne after the king's death and challenged by King George's forces to sea level combat, the Queen seeks out a man only known to her in stories, a man who 'is one with the sea as the body is one with the spirit' to train her so that she may fight alongside her men.
1. Matte

She studied the dye on her nails with a wonder only suited for intense boredom. Perhaps next time she'll opt for a matte black rather than a lacquer. She pondered the way a dull black would compare against the velvet that clung to her and even dared to tilt her head beneath the table, lining her hand to her thigh. Letting a content sigh escapes her, she comes to the resolve that a full black may insight more fear, perhaps present another cut to her already jagged appearance. With the wave of her hand, a purple smoke threads through her fingers in a fade that is indeed short lived.

"Your majesty..." A small voice draws the courage to inquire if she is listening when it is apparent that she is not, rather enamored with other details that have stolen her attention.

She does not respond right away, eyeing the new color that stains her nails, once again pressing it to her thigh to admire the contrast between the black velvet that hugs her body and the matte that dyes her hand. With an uninterested luster, she lifted her eyes and most of the Elders looked away, stunned by her gaze. Her eyes are beyond reproach, not even suited for the challenge of a glance.

"Your suggestions are unwanted and your babbles, futile." Her gaze fell upon each man, former advisers of Leopold, an individual punishment of sorts for which they all eventually looked away. "The only matter of productivity gleaned form this gathering seems to be aesthetic," her hands slid atop the round table and they all leaned back in their chairs, "and that is merely a waste of my time."

She stood and they hastened to stand before her, dipping their head as a maidservant scurried behind her with hushed apologies for the chair scraping against the floor as it was pulled from the table. "My time is worth a king's ransom and you have spent it dispelling idiotic attempts to placate me." The silence was impenetrable, each man crestfallen at her guttural nature. "If an entire council can fail to find a solution then I myself will provide you with one." With a grace that can only be acquired, the Queen's steps rounded the table. Every member of the council tensed when she passed them, beads of sweat matting their forehead with the slow drag of her gown being heard against the concrete.

She smirked; they were frightened and she reveled in it, in a small victory that she achieved each day. To strike fear in a heart was just another tally in her chart. "I seek a man, he hails from another realm and can accomplish what I seek." She paused and they turned to her at the noted silence, eyes lowering in respect. "Find him and bring him to my court; only then will I be pleased. You have until the the sun rises from the east and touches the west. Failure to do so will put you on our front line of men when King George's forces attack."

Silence; she loved it. They had no choice but to be stunned into silence. Their lives now hung in the balance, dependent on their ability to find the location of someone whom they nothing about. "In other words, you WILL die." She offered a synthesis for those too frightened to decipher her words.

Her hips swayed from side to side at her turn, a seductive exit that struck each being with an unparalleled terror.

"Y-Your majesty."

Everything in her clenched at the constricting title, at the address that disrupted her leave, her course of transition. Never minding to turn around, she stood with her back to the council and allowed the man to glean whatever he could from her stance.

"Pardon my speech your majesty but, how may we seek this mysterious man if we know not his location nor are we privy to his name." His voice trembled with the obvious fear of his life but nonetheless, he was the only one endowed with the courage to speak up.

"Neverland." Her voice boomed against the war room walls, battling the sound waves in the air as an echo stretched from window to window. "He hails from Neverland."

She continued to walk and nearly staggered to come to a stop, hearing his voice pestering her again. "His name?" Silence fell once more and there was an afterthought. "...your majesty."

The sound of velvet moving against stone rocked their minds once more and they knew the Queen to be long gone, leaving them with their task and barely a day to complete it. Find the man who shall meet her needs, he comes from Neverland.

The land from which no man is known to return.

X

A part of her took pleasure in knowing that there were seconds remaining before their deadline struck the sky and her court was emptied of all visitors, leaving her bereft of faith in her lacking council. With an empty sigh, her small hands gripped the sides of the throne once reserved for Leopold and she stood, beckoning her personal guard to stand at once. "Claude, see to it that the council takes their place in no man's land on the morrow."

She descended the few steps left from the throne, extending a taunt hand that the balding knight took delicately, one of the few guards privileged to touch her. "Yes, your majesty."

She huffed, throwing her head back as her cape ran across the floor, swaying with her leather chapped hips. She was dressed in her armor, ready for anything that King George planned to throw her way, to intimidate her with. A babe in the monarchy, she had never engaged in combat before but knew of it's intricacies from having an ear pressed to the war room with interest. Rather than appoint an intermediary, she took on the task herself; no one shall lead her men but herself. That part of her remained in tact, if they stayed loyal to her, she would stay loyal to them. Rocinante shall gallop beneath her as she rode alongside her men.

_Together_, they will charge.

Dainty, they called her; reserved, they called her. She may be a Princess at birth and a Queen at heart but she'd be damned if she let someone else dictate her ability again. She'd train with the best of them if that's what it took to succeed, to dissolve the mentality put upon her, the stereotype. A Queen can rule, a Queen can rest, a Queen can reign.

And she shall fight if it so pleases her.

"Release me at once!" The shouts disturbed her thoughts and inclined her gaze to the empty hall, winding past her sight. Shadows bounced and taunted the walls to tell the visual of the voice that echoed in her palace.

"Your majesty-" She didn't care for someone disturbing her peace, raising their voice as if they were in their own chambers. When the king was laid to rest, she took everything back including dominion over the halls. Claude refrained from reaching for her, only calling her title as she stalked towards the long waiting sheath. On Harvest, it filled with peasants begging of her gold and blessings but today it was barren with only her leather cape to grace it's floor.

"Who goes there?" She paused at the sight of a gruff man struggling in the hands of her defenses. Elders walked alongside them, dragging the dark haired being before her. She could not see his face, hidden by the cloth that hooded his head with only his black air to tell the truth of his identity.

He thrust forward, attempting to charge her presence, pierce the bubble that surrounded her honor. "Chaste yourself!" The Elder scolded, his words doing nothing to halt the man's fight.

He intrigued her. His hood was of ragged condition but his attire spoke of his stature, simple yet expensed in purchase. Leather pants that clung to his legs and a silk material that she could only guess to be his shirt. Gold hung from his neck and dangled in front of her, telling her what she already knew. "Release him." She ordered, never minding the Elder's open mouth.

"But your maj-"

"Did I request your approach?" Her eyes locked with the man that knew nothing of her but that she knew everything of. Never turning to seek the eyes of the Elder, her voice was enough to silence him into oppression and probe him into releasing the shackles that bound the man from Neverland.

Once free, the mysterious man, a wanted commodity sprung forth and shed his hood to reveal just as she expected. A pirate.

"Captain-" Her address is cut short by his approach, careless for her position. He ran upon her before guards could clear him and the darkest of armor stepped forward, chastising his movements.

"You haven't the reproach to address the Queen!" Claude's fingers danced against the holster of his sword. He stood about a foot from her and the fire in his eyes was unmistakable, the anger. They had likely kidnapped him, stripping him of his barrings and any honors he had adorned himself with. Here, he faced her with only a hook and a smirk.

Oh, and fire burning eyes.

"Leave us." She instructed, not minding the proximity in which he stood, in which he was likely to narrow. Guards hesitantly stepped back and only when wooden doors clanked against each other in finality did she take the time to size him up. Medium build as she expected, unshaven, long fingers akin to a master swordsman. His body language suggests ambidexterity but she doesn't guess, deciding to wait and see if his abilities match her observations.

At this point she knows enough.

He was silent. He watched her watch him and she watched him watch her. Her presence slid closer to him until space was an unknown privilege and personal space was something to be earned.

Her eyes trailed from the apple of his neck to the blue of his eyes, stagnant oon the sight of how they seemed to imitate the waves he had sailed and seas he had traveled. "Captain Killian Jones." He didn't fear her, he didn't flinch, he didn't even look away. "You acquired your knowledge from centuries at sea, unaged by consistent tenures in Neverland."

"And?" He challenged, unmoved by the facts she breathed at him, the facts she knew for reasons unknown to him.

"Neverland is not named Neverland because it just so happens to roll off of the tongue; once entered, it is _never _left." She leaned closer and he blinked furiously, not expecting her to come so near to his face. "And yet you stand before me."

"If you wish to know how then I'm afraid you've wasted your time."

She chuckled, throwing her head back in a laugh that lasted past it's prime. "I can stop time," she leaned, "I can make time," she leaned, " but I don't waste time." Others waste her time but she knows how precious it is.

He smiled, challenging her rather than welcoming her. "The last time a woman was this close to me, we weren't exactly standing up."

She smirked at his comment and waived her hand, eyes glinting when he bent in a writhe that churned the depths of his stomach. "Well you aren't exactly standing now either, are you?"

"You're a witch.." He accused, recovering from the stabs within himself.

"And you're a pirate but humans are so inclined to look beyond menial aspects of one another if it means that in the end, we all get what we seek." She had peaked his interest but he wouldn't admit it, only raising his eyes to her own. "And you seek the death of the Dark One." She scoffed before turning her back to him and admiring her throne. "Something you've obviously failed at..."

"I will have my vengeance-" He struck back, not allowing his efforts to be mocked. He lost his love in those efforts, he lost himself in those efforts.

She cut him off, whipping around so that the leather on her back flew behind her and curved at the tun. "You will have nothing!" She scowled as if he were a petulant child yearning for something he could never possess. "So long as you attempt with your hook and a sword barely sharp of blade, you will have NOTHING."

He sneered, and this time it was he that approached her. "And what do you know about vengeance?"

Her mouth opened but she knew better than to speak what immediately came to her mind. Her eyes narrowed and her lips curled into a smile that left him knowing that for a moment he had gotten to her, with one question he saw a glimpse of her. She parted her lips and he waited to see that side of her again but was met with a harsh reality when she spoke devoid of care for him or his state; "I know that for each time you fail at killing him, you kill a part of yourself. I know that without me you will die without success and the woman you long to avenge will have died in vain."

His hook grazed at her neck, scraping just the surface. Her eyes flittered down and she never moved, eyeing him and his metal counterpart. "You don't know what you're talking about."

She bared her teeth and he was without knowledge that she had flipped the script. She let herself slip earlier and showed a part of herself that was sacred, she showed a sliver of humanity; and for that he owed her a sliver of his. "Seems we all have buttons Captain. Learn not to push mine and I'll try not to push yours." She turned at her own words, ignoring the mark that he had left on her, breaking the thinnest layer of skin on her neck. It bubbled slightly but it was a surface blemish and did nothing to faze her; she'd conceal it later. "Now, shall we move on or need I say more to assure you of my position?"

She turned and stood in front of her throne, taking the few steps as slow and methodic before winding her cape and meeting his eyes. Satisfied, his tongue pressed against his cheek and his hand met his hip. "What do you want from me?"

"I want.." Her eyes rose from his calf chapped boots to his ruffled black hair. "Your skills. Since withdrawing my support from King George he's become economically dispirited. Though I was not the only kingdom to do so, he's chosen to direct his misfortunes at myself and my defenses." She placed her hand on her thigh and lifted a brow, surprised by the contrast between the matte and the leather; it added a dramatic affect that was unexpected but welcome.

"What do you need me for?" His question interrupted her thought, drawing a line between the matte and the leather.

She threw her hand at him and he gasped, opening his mouth to speak only to find that he was mute. "Patience is a virtue, perhaps you'll learn it before interrupting me again." He was raging, balling his fists at his sides as she absently admired her manicure. "His defenses are trained at sea and I am told that they will approach from that command, knowing my...inexperience in such a field. Most of my men are trained as well but I, as I said before, lack such knowledge." She sucked her teeth, getting annoyed by his eyes continuously bugging out of his head as he attempted to speak.

Again, with the waive of her hand, "Are you crazy?" He gasped, rubbing at his neck though no physical trauma has been inflicted.

"Aren't you daft? I said that I am inexperienced!"

"And crazy!" He added, eyeing her angrily as she rolled her eyes and attempted to persuade him to join her forces.

"You are entitled to your opinion but the fact remains that I need to be trained and you are the best. You sailed from a realm of no escape and you are one with the ocean as a body is one with it's spirit."

He shook his head, uncaring of her words. "Being a pirate is not a hobby, something to be done when bored. It's a lifestyle and I'd think you were better off allowing one of your men lead. As a Queen I doubt you'd appreciate-"

He didn't even see her move, he just felt her grip on his neck. He felt it tighten, he felt his back hit a wall and he realized that she had shot him from one side of the room to the other, scowling when their bodies collided and she constricted his breathing.

"Do not insult me with limited insinuations about who I am and what I'd _appreciate. _ I would say that you'd like to breath right now but I'm afraid that'd be an insinuation and I am not so inclined to believe that it is the truth." The magic dissipated and it left her with only the strength of herself to hold him against that wall. "I wish to lead my men to victory, _ME_ their Queen. I do not wish to be another monarch fiddling on a throne while their men die for choices not of their own. I will go with them, I will sail with them and if you don't wish to help me," she ripped away her grasp, lips curled into a scowl of disgust for his presence, "..then you can go and die trying to skin your _Crocodile."_ She detached herself form his presence and stalked away, swinging her cape so that a wind hit him in her absence.

And he was left gasping for his breath, upset at being manhandled, curious for her passion and wondering why the air was tinged with the scent of apples.

X


	2. Onyx

The Queen eyed the steer before her wearily, tracing a soft palm around the leather that encased it. Fit for a queen, she supposed with an internal shrug that was nill towards satisfactory. It was expected that King George's men would strike when the sun began to set and, already at noonday, she was yet at a lost for how to proceed. Dark Knights hung in her shadow, knowing little of what went through the realms of her mind as she mapped out her actions. They eyed her every move, the tip of her finger against the hide of her steer, the pad of her boot against the stained wood that was her deck. The entire vessel railed with an onyx hue that she had chosen herself, believing that it would aide in nightly battles. But of course, that was the extent of what she had come up with as of yet.

And her window of time was nearing it's close.

Glancing down at the matte that stagnated her fingers, she flitted a hand and hummed in approval when a purple mist enveloped her appendages to reveal a shiny ink, purposely the opposite of what she had come to the shore with. For her, a change of attitude induced a change of appearance.

"Aesthetics have always been imperative when prepping for battle, aye?" Her body barely inclined to acknowledge the voice that filtered behind her, knowing that, as their duty, those subservient to her would handle him first.

Clipped under a thick forearm, the pirate struggled to swallow the lump that passed his throat as he croaked beneath the man's direst. "Your majesty, if you please," he met the metal mask of his aggressor, "...beckon your hounds."

"Claude, Rivers," She gripped the wheel at four and eight, attempting to get a feel for the charge of a ship beneath her, the weight, the dexterity. "Leave us..." Without having to turn her back, she could feel the protest mounting in her right hand guard, "see to it that the beaches on the west are checked for any drifting armada," and silenced him before he could speak.

The gruff pirate scowled weakly as the knight heeded his orders, boots creaking against the deck as they made their exit. She heard him clear his throat from behind her and let the wind speak for her, listening to the whistle as it passed and whipped at her high ponytail and the leather train that trailed behind her.

"I've come to take you up on your offer." Uneven footsteps sounded behind her and she turned, feeling as though the control had been leveled in his favor.

With a smirk and keen flip of her cloak, she eyed the bushy browed pirate and questioned daringly, "Is that so?"

He shrugged, a hand stuck in the hip of his pants. "Well it's obvious that the assistance of someone is needed and you're too feared to solicit assistance from anyone else successfully." It was a fleeting reminder that the people did indeed fear her and rather than have a reputation to show, she already had one that proceeded her without even a year on the throne.

Nearing the King's demise, she was known as an ice queen, reluctant to smile and reticent to happiness. She often retreated to her chambers in a deafening silence that no one cared to question, for she was not of importance; perhaps no one even noticed. The Ice Queen, incapable of feeling and incomparable to the Queen that had graced the throne before her.

A sentiment she was often reminded of.

"You have been on an island for centuries..." she sneered, eyes flickering from his mud shod boots to his open neck shirt, "you know nothing of my reign."

He took a step closer, cut by her sharp tongue; however, the wound wasn't deep enough to blind him from seeing where she faltered, where he had hit a nerve. "Have I upset you?" He lifted a brow and watched as she straightened her back, lifting her chin by a fraction as she assimilated the frame that she needed to be who she was molded to be.

But by his guess, not who she truly was.

"You've done nothing but waste my time. I'd appreciate if you'd leave my vessel and go back to your ship or your tavern or wherever you wish," she waved her hand, deeming his dwellings to be below her, "just be gone from my presence." She turned her back to him and walked to her steer, leaving him with the wondering question of why she was yet to use magic. She spared no expense beforehand but seemed to be hesitant, resorting to a battle of words rather than might

Her palms tightened around the circular hide and she waited to hear the creaking of wood, and she did, but it heightened towards her rather than away. "You grip your helm as though you're reigning in a horse." She scoffed at his comparison, wishing to turn around but was stopped when a callous palm fell atop her hand.

She stiffened at his touch, daring not to look down as his other hand did the same thing. She opened her mouth to scold him but felt that her words had run from her, leaving her dry of throat with a stammering demand of, "I'd advise you to-"

"Perhaps if you loosed your hold," it was a demand that he ignored, instead prying her shined fingers from the steer with less effort than he expected. "It's not a beast in need of control in fact, it can be quite similar to the relationship you can hold with a loyal steed. Not a beast but a guide, something to be equal to."

"I don't know what you're talking about and I'd rather appreciate if you _loosed your hold." _She mocked him, attempting to gain an upper hand that continued to rise above her. With an exerted strength she pushed back against him, flinging an arm to her side so that his back fell to the post that he had earlier been held up to. "I am no longer in need of your services, nor do I want them. You had your chance and like the fledgling imbecile you seem to be, you wasted your opportunity."

He straightened his spine with grin that cockily tipped off his ego. "Be that if it may but I was merely trying to do you a favor," he leaned into her space, "you'll just end up sitting on your throne like any other crown, awaiting to hear how many deaths your men suffered."

Never good enough, never wise enough, never pretty enough, not fit to follow, not fit to lead; again she was slapped with the inadequacies of her youth and spurring adulthood. She had no experience and might've lacked the magical ability to carry all of her men in battle. She was lacking, patterned by her usual proclivities; and to have it shown to her face in such a callous nature with no regard for her sensitivities was something that she was used to, something she was numbed to.

But nonetheless, something that angered her.

Her hand lifted and squeezed in the air and he clawed at his throat as the breath within him left and her head fell back in a detached stare as breathing became a distant memory. "Well, Captain it seems that we are inept to finding ourselves in this position: you fighting for your life at the mercy of my hand." Her fingers contracted and he gasped, gaining a gust of breath before it was snatched back by another contraction. "Perhaps if you weren't so inclined to step out of your place, I wouldn't constantly have to put you there."

She released him and he dropped to the floor in a violent cough that shook his body as she stood over him. Aware that her actions were rash and perhaps an overreaction, she took the chance to remind him of who she was, since as she put it, he knew nothing of her reign. Stooping to his level in a rare show, she lingered by his ear and whispered what left him breathless once more.

"Perchance I am the beast...but nonetheless, I need no one to reign me in." She stood slowly, with a growing smirk, but her victorious ascension was halted by the bustling noises approaching the shores.

"Your Majesty, your majesty!" A knight scuffled towards the vessel, disarmed of his covering so that she could see his knitted brows as drones of her men followed behind him in a similar fashion.

"What is the meaning of this?" She questioned, scanning the crown for an answer. Why were her men were knee high wet and seemed to have fought a battle before it began?

"Out of the way!" A wider subject came closer to the steps that fashioned beside the ship, bolder than the others that backed away from her presence. He dismounted his headgear and shook his head of any extremities, bowing curtly to the crown before she waved her hand, dismissing him of formalities so that she could be informed about the lurking chaos. "The armada, King George has sent 8 of his vessels and they're nearing the west wing of the Dark Castle. Upon approach, three of our men were flagged by arrows."

He looked away from her and she knew, having to ask the question "how many?"

Pressing the skull of his uniform into his breastplate, he dipped his chin. "2 your majesty, among them being one of your escorts, Berkley."

She nodded, eyes falling to the forest behind them as they looked to her for guidance, for leadership. But she was unprepared, only able to offer than the power within her two hands. Power that she hadn't full capacity to even yield yet.

"What shall we do?" Claude asked humbly, his voice coming as a whisper to keep the others from panicking. From the blank look in her eyes, he knew that she hadn't a clue. "Shall we convene the Elders-"

"No, no we haven't the time..." She rubbed off the idea quickly, needing something concrete to go off of.

"Mount 12 of your ships, 10 men on each." A hoarse voice spoke from behind the Queen, a voice that they all looked to find the source of. "Round the west coast and the east coast. Load the canons gifted by Midas onto two of them and the rest of you will go with arrows." The pirate stood, rubbing at his neck as his shoulder pushed passed the Queens, nearing her men. "You, you, you and you..." He pointed out into the crowd of royal guards. "You're on the Queen's vessel, position the helm, lift the anchor and load the weaponry-The rest of you do the same."

They stood blindly, looking to the Queen for her word, for her approval. They knew not of this man and were not going to cross the crown for the sake of their lives. They needed the nod of the Queen and when she realized that it was what they sought, she found her voice. "Do as he says."

With that, they acted quickly, dispersing on the sands. Claude watched wearily as the pirate leaned next to the Queen's ear, eyes darkening with each word. "Perchance you are the beast and needn't be reigned in but apparently, you do need to be guided."

And with that, she took to the vessel with her charge of men following behind him.


End file.
